I was reminded of a memorable evening on Kings Farm, Northern NSW, in an enlightened state of mind with my long time buddy, David Nerlich... Was it 1989?

We penned this piece together which I subsequently wrote into early performances of Black Harlequin. Thanks Dave, for digging this one out :)

A ringed moon,
Trunks of trees carved light and shade out of the mist
solid dark
in and out of shadow and bright
some felt the earth through feet swollen with the pounding
through and through the night
the moonlightfull
brimming with dew
the foggy breath of the heart of the place
so easy to find
the cup that runneth over the hill
the nightbirds that screetch, the cows that wail,
a full moon is for lovers and practitioners of ritual alike
we don't cross the fence 'cause something on the other side roars
the grass goes untrodden
it echoes its own valley
we've got ours

As we descend into the mist a new line of shore
a halo of mystery that decieves the eye
but all eyes are decieved
until they know they are decieved
and no more are believed.